


For Better, For Worse

by magisterpavus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ready Or Not Fusion, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But also, Character Death, Deal with a Devil, Fluff and Humor, Ghosts, Goats, Gun Violence, Happy Ending, Knives, M/M, Meet the Family, Murder, Peril, Sacrifice, Supernatural Elements, Survival Horror, True Love, Wedding Night, but not shiro or keith bc im soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23675212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: Guys like Shiro just don’t marry guys like Keith.Keith comes from a long string of foster families, none of which really stuck.Shiro comes from a board game empire...and a family with a devilish secret.But Shiro saidyes.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 291





	For Better, For Worse

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally the "Ready or Not AU" twitter thread, which you can find here [@saltyshiro](https://twitter.com/saltyshiro/status/1246309122892369927) but like most of my threads, I got carried away, so it's now all here in one place for your reading ease! Also, no need to have read that thread or the movie to read this! The fic diverges from the movie in several ways lol but it is a fun movie I'd recommend watching if you're a light horror/thriller fan.
> 
> Please let me know if there are any other tags you think should be there! I tried to put down everything I could think of but this is a more violent/horror-ish (I say -ish because I try to offset the horror with humor & fluff) fic than I usually write so if I missed something, I'm happy to add it.

Guys like Shiro just don’t marry guys like Keith.

But Shiro said _yes._

Keith comes from a long string of foster families, none of which really stuck, and Shiro comes from a board game empire. 

Well, it started off as board games. Last Keith heard, they were somehow involved in football. Or advertising. Or both. Either way, the Shiroganes are filthy rich, and Keith does mean _filthy._ Shiro is a good man, of that much Keith is certain, but his family...well. Keith isn’t so sure about them. All he knows is that Shiro has some unspecified feud with them and was estranged for several years. This wedding is a sort of peace offering. 

Keith hopes they accept the olive branch. Of course, nothing could stop him from marrying Shiro, but he does find himself genuinely excited about the idea of having a family, a real family, a family that sticks. Keith’s excitement about this hasn’t dimmed, despite Shiro’s not insignificant anxiety about the whole thing. Shiro’s a worrier – Keith gets it. But it’s their wedding day, and it’s going to be good. It has to be good.

Right?

The wedding ceremony is lovely. It’s on the Shirogane estate, of course, on the dramatic marble front steps. Shiro looks too handsome to be real. Keith is the happiest man alive.

The Shiroganes, however...honestly give him the creeps. At least he knows where Shiro inherited his good looks; the whole family is beautiful. And terrifying.

As far as Keith can tell, those present include Shiro’s dad, mom, grandma, cousins, and of course, his two brothers: Ryou and Kuro.

Ryou seems nice, even though he laughs nervously a lot. He’s the youngest, with tanned skin like a movie star and a charming, Clark Kent-esque curl which his hair gel has failed to tame. He’s nothing but polite and friendly to Keith, and even compliments his red silk tie, which means a lot to Keith – he spent weeks trying to decide on one.

Kuro, though...Keith was already sweating through his tux and Kuro isn’t helping. A carbon copy of his twin brother, down to the silver forelock in their otherwise jet black hair, Kuro is more than a little unnerving, especially when he seems to be staring at Keith every chance he gets – and not in a particularly friendly way. 

Shiro is a very good distraction, however, and the wedding is a well-organized and succinct affair. Thankfully, by the time they make it away from the party, after the house, and into Shiro’s childhood bedroom, which looks fit for a king – they’re both tipsy and Keith has almost totally forgotten about Shiro’s mysterious family. 

He’s giggling his way through undoing Shiro’s buttons when Shiro suddenly freezes under him.

Keith gives him a quizzical look — then sees, in the floor length mirror beside the bed, _someone standing in the doorway._ He swears and whirls around, nearly falling off the bed.

“Enjoying yourself, little brother?” Kuro’s smiling. It’s not a nice smile. 

Shiro swallows, hard. “It’s — it’s not time yet.”

Keith sits up and glares at him. He doesn’t know why his brother in law is here, but he knows a bully when he sees one. “Get the hell out,” Keith snaps.

Kuro’s grin widens. He leans against the doorframe and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I _like_ this one, Takashi. Little spitfire, isn’t he?”

Shiro’s brow lowers, his jaw tightening. Keith blinks at him. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Shiro so angry before. 

“You should leave,” Shiro warns. “Now.”

Kuro taps his wristwatch, which probably costs more than Keith’s damn life. “Don’t forget, Takashi. It’s tradition.”

“What?” Keith looks from brother to brother. “What’s tradition? Walking in on us on our wedding night? Why are you still _here?”_

“You have until midnight,” Kuro murmurs. “Meet in the music room. Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Takashi.”

Shiro says nothing. Kuro leaves.

“Uh,” Keith says when he’s gone, “Shiro? What the fuck was that?”

Shiro slumps against the headboard. “I’m so sorry, Keith,” he whispers. 

“Hey, hey, talk to me.” Keith snuggles up to his side and frowns at him. “What’s the tradition?”

Shiro closes his eyes. “It’s...a game.”

Keith’s brow furrows. “A game. What, like Monopoly?”

Shiro cracks a weak smile. “Maybe. God, I hope it’s Monopoly.” His expression wavers and his grip on Keith’s waist turns bruising. “I never should’ve married you, Keith, but I — I was selfish, and –” He shivers. “I’m so sorry.”

Keith’s eyes widen, pulse climbing. “What? Shiro, it’s – I guess game night on our wedding night is weird, but – but, I mean, who am I to say what’s normal for families?” He shrugs. “I have no idea.”

Shiro shakes his head. “This,” he whispers, “is not normal. It’s sick, Keith.”

The expression on his face is awful and Keith’s confusion gives way to fear. “Shiro,” he whispers, “what’s the game?”

Shiro curls closer to him. “They don’t want me to tell you. They think, if they break tradition, the family will die. We do it whenever someone joins the family.”

“Do _what.”_

Shiro swallows. “You have to draw a card...from a box. The box given to us by the man who gave us fortune centuries ago.” Shiro hesitates. His eyes are a little manic. “Just a heads up, pretty sure that was the actual Devil, or some equivalent. He made a deal with our family.”

Keith stares at him. “Your family made a deal with the Devil to play card games on every family member’s wedding night?”

“Yes,” Shiro says, “but one of the cards isn’t a real game. It’s a hunt.”

“Like...animals?”

“No,” Shiro whispers. “It’s hide and seek. And if they found you –”

Keith sits up, eyes wide. “Oh, what the fuck? They – you’re joking. You’re not joking. _What the fuck?”_

“It’s only if you pull that card,” Shiro tries, “but you won’t, it’ll be okay, we’ll play Old Maid or something and then leave and never come back again –”

“And if I pull Hide and Seek?”

Shiro’s face crumples. “Then they would tell you to hide,” he whispers, “and they would come after you with the weapons they keep in the room with the box, and when they found you – because they would, there’s no way to stay hidden from them ‘til dawn – they would kill you in the ritual.”

“The Devil ritual,” Keith says, just to make sure they’re on the same page, here. “Your family would _SACRIFICE ME TO THE DEVIL.”_

Shiro nods miserably. “But – Keith, I won’t let that happen. Okay? I won’t let them –”

“Why did you bring me here at all, if you knew?” Keith whispers, struggling against the ugly voice in his head that has stayed silent around Shiro for so long, the voice telling him that Shiro’s going to abandon him like everyone else has.

Shiro is quiet. Keith’s lips part. “You believe it,” he whispers, devastated by the realization. “You think if you don’t play the game, the Devil will actually destroy your family –”

“There were other families,” Shiro mumbles, head in his hands. “They – they fucked up the tradition. They all died, Keith.”

“Shiro,” Keith says, shaking his head, “that wasn’t the Devil, because the Devil’s not _real,_ that was just – coincidence –”

“Keith, we have to play the game,” Shiro says grimly. “If you want to be my husband, anyway. You could – you could still leave. It’s not midnight yet.”

“Fucking _really?”_ Keith hisses at him. “That’s my choice? Divorce you or stay married and potentially get sacrificed to the Devil?! No!”

“Odds are, you pull a normal card,” Shiro sighs. “But if not – and if, knowing this, you still want to stay with me – then I won’t let them go through with it.”

Keith stares at him frantically. “What, even knowing – or thinking – your whole family is gonna die because you pissed off the Devil? Shiro –”

Shiro shakes his head. “Keith, listen to me. None of this – this life, is worth anything, if it’s built off of losing you. Not to me.”

“But if it’s true,” Keith says, halting, “won’t you also die?”

Shiro’s shoulders slump. “We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it,” he sighs. He looks at the clock. “Well...ten minutes to decide. Divorce paperwork’s not too bad, I think. We’d never have to see each other again, if that’s what you choose – oh!”

“Shiro,” Keith mumbles against his lips before breaking the kiss, “don’t be an idiot. I’m not divorcing you. I also don’t want to _die,_ and I don’t want _you_ to die, but odds are this Devil pact is bullshit. Right? I don’t want to give you up for that. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Shiro whispers, eyes wide, “but — you’re sure...?”

“Is this why you were so freaked out when I proposed?” Keith asks. 

Shiro hesitates, then gives a small nod. “Keith, if not for this mess, I want you to know I would’ve proposed after our first year together.”

Keith smiles weakly. “So...was your plan for us to just keep dating for eternity, or...?”

“Honestly?” Shiro rubs his temple. “I kind of thought you’d come to your senses sooner or later and find someone who could actually give you what I couldn’t. I didn’t think _you_ would propose!”

Keith snorts and strokes his husband’s chest, forcing himself to breathe, to pretend any of this has a semblance of a normal wedding night. “Like I was gonna let anyone else have this. I had to lock that shit down, Takashi.”

Shiro splutters at him, blushing, and slowly leans into him, wrapping Keith up in his arms. “I’m glad you did. Just sorry there are strings attached.”

“Oh, no big deal,” Keith mumbles into his shoulder, “just some murder and Devil worship. Could be worse.”

“Could it?” Shiro asks doubtfully.

Keith grimaces. “No. Probably not.” He eyes the clock. “Rude of them to not even let us fuck before this, huh?”

“We have six minutes...”

Keith gives him a look. “Wow, you’ve come a long way from Mr. Five Hours of Foreplay On Our Second Date, huh?”

Shiro’s mouth twitches. “I’m just saying, if you need something to take the edge off, we probably have enough time for me to blow you –”

“Not really in the mood now.”

Shiro winces. “Right. I guess I’d be a little worried if Devil rituals got you in the mood.”

Keith shrugs. “I’m sure there could be kinky Devil rituals. Is this one kinky?”

Shiro purses his lips. “I guess...they gag and cuff you.”

“Hot,” Keith deadpans, trying to keep his nerve. “Minus the murder part.”

The door creaks open and Shiro’s eyes widen before he half-tackles Keith to the bed. Shiro nuzzles into his jaw and hisses, “You can’t let them know that you know _anything_.”

That’s how Kuro finds them.

“Didn’t even manage to undress?” Kuro clicks his tongue. “Sad. Come, it’s time.”

“Time for what?” Keith asks, sitting up and smoothing down his hair. Shiro avoids his gaze and Kuro smirks.

“Just a little bit of fun,” Kuro drawls. “The whole family is waiting, Takashi. Wouldn’t want to let them down _again,_ would you?” There’s no mistaking the threat in his tone.

Not for the first time, Keith wonders how Shiro lost his arm. He frowns and hops off the bed, offering Shiro a hand. Shiro takes it, and squeezes once before turning to Kuro. “We can find the music room ourselves, _brother.”_

Kuro’s eyes narrow. “Just don’t get lost.”

Thankfully, Kuro leaves, and the two of them descend the stairs together. Keith tries and fails not to stare at the grandeur of the mansion around them, though admittedly, he also finds himself looking for hiding places. “I can’t believe you have an evil twin,” Keith mumbles.

Shiro sighs. “He wasn’t always that bad.”

“Oh? Was this before or after his first Devil sacrifice?”

Shiro makes a face. “It’s...complicated.”

“And what about Ryou? The youngest brother, right? Seems nice.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Shiro warns. “Him, or his husband.”

“Ryou is married?” Keith asks. He doesn’t remember seeing anyone with Ryou at the wedding...

Shiro grimaces. “Yes. His name is Curtis. He’s insufferable. He’ll try to chat with you tonight, I’m sure.”

“What’s his deal?”

Shiro shakes his head. “He’s so boring it’s unreal.”

“Boring is better than psychotic, right?” Keith says.

“Eh,” Shiro mutters. “One of the few things Kuro and I agree on is how annoying that man is. He acts like Ryou can do no wrong, though, so it’s no surprise my little brother keeps him around. My whole family has an ego problem.”

Keith eyes him. “You don’t.”

Shiro flushes. “Well, I...”

“It took me six months before I even found out you were rich, Shiro, and a year before I found out who your family was.”

“I didn’t want that to change anything,” Shiro sighs. “I wanted you to like me for me, somehow.”

Keith eyes him. “You say that like it’s a hard thing to do and not like you’re the best man I’ve ever met.”

Shiro clears his throat. “Thanks, Keith.”

Keith frowns. “Are you saying you’ve dated gold diggers in the past?” He pauses. “Wait...when you told me you were engaged before...”

“Let’s not talk about this right now,” Shiro pleads, squeezing his hand again. “Here’s the music room. Remember –”

“I know nothing,” Keith says innocently. “We’re doing game night. That’s all.”

“I love you,” Shiro whispers. He’s trembling. “It’s gonna be okay.”

The sinking feeling in Keith’s belly says otherwise, and it’s never been wrong before, but Keith forces a smile and tries to believe his husband instead.

*

Keith stares at the box. It’s a small, ornately carved black box with a pearl inlaid in the lid.

He’s sitting at a table, around which are gathered the Shiroganes. Shiro is on his right and Kuro is on his left; Keith can feel his gaze on him as he draws the card from the box. All the Shiroganes watch intently, but there’s something heavier in Kuro’s glare.

There’s a weighted, anticipatory pause. Keith slides the card from the box to the table. 

“Well?” Shiro’s father demands. “Let’s see it.”

Keith has never had a worse gut feeling about anything as he does when he flips that card.

“Huh,” he says faintly.

The card is Hide and Seek.

Keith sits up straight, his mouth dry. Under the table, Shiro fumbles for his hand, catching it in a bruising, sweaty grip. On his other side Kuro is smiling, resting his chin in his hand and eyeing Keith in a curious, calculating sort of way. 

“Again?” Shiro’s grandma mutters. Later, Keith will think this was an odd thing to say, but right then, he can’t think about much at all.

“Wow,” Keith says, his voice sounding distant and odd to his own ears, “it’s been ages since I played that.”

He’s never actually played hide and seek. The closest instance he can think of is hiding from bullies at recess and in foster homes...but maybe this is closer to that, anyway.

“Well, our house is the best place for it,” Shiro’s mom declares, her eyes bright. She’s a beautiful lady, but in the dimly lit room, her red lips and shiny black hair cut through with the distinct white that Shiro and Kuro share seems far more sinister than elegant. 

“Lucky me,” Keith says.

“Can’t we play something else?” Shiro asks, his voice very small. Ryou looks at him with something like pity. Kuro scoffs and leans back in his chair. “Dad?” Shiro tries. “Something, anything, just not –”

“You know the rules, Takashi,” his dad says firmly. “This is tradition.”

“It’s okay,” Keith says, giving Shiro a pained smile. “I like hide and seek.”

“Hear that, Kashi?” Kuro chuckles. “Fun for everyone. As long as you follow the rules...”

Shiro’s dad nods. “We count to one hundred. You hide in the house. It’ll be locked down to make sure you don’t cheat.”

“I won’t cheat,” Keith says.

“Better not,” Kuro says under his breath.

“How exciting!” Curtis exclaims. “What a fun honeymoon idea.”

Shiro glares daggers at him from across the table. 

“Shiro, you don’t look well,” his mom says. “Perhaps you should stay in here.”

“No!” Shiro exclaims, panic slipping into his voice. Keith digs his nails into Shiro’s palm under the table. Keep your cool, Takashi, he thinks desperately. “No,” Shiro repeats, steadier. “I...I want to share this special moment with him.” 

Then, slowly, Shiro smiles, and it looks like Kuro’s.

“Sounds good to me,” Keith says, trying and failing to not be unnerved by Shiro’s expression. “When do we start?”

“In a moment,” Shiro’s dad says, rising from the table and going to the record player in the corner. “There’s a special song we play – it’s tradition.” Everyone laughs.

Shiro catches his wrist and leans in to kiss his cheek and whisper, “Under the bed. I’ll find you.” He lets Keith go and Keith tries not to let his bewildered smile falter. He trusts Shiro. He does. Of course he does. Shiro will help him get out. 

Even if he’s now smirking at Kuro.

The next few minutes are strange. Everyone is in high spirits, drinking champagne and casting delighted looks upon Keith. Shiro stays near him, but feels far away, because when Keith tries to read his expression, he can’t. 

When the count begins, Keith goes to hide in a daze.

*

As the record counts to a hundred in a singsong voice, the Shiroganes get ready, unlocking the heavy cabinets filled with antique weaponry kept in prime condition just for this occasion. Shiro’s mom touches his shoulder. “You’re sure about this, Takashi?”

Shiro exhales, hesitates, and at last nods firmly. “Yes. I...I was wrong to try to run from this, from our family. Maybe this is for the best. What if Keith turned out like Adam?”

His grandma shakes her head while she takes the old shotgun from the cabinet. “You’re too sweet for your own good, Takashi. Attracting those greedy little lowlifes like flies.” She pauses. “I kind of liked this one, though. He seemed different.”

Shiro shrugs. “Too late now.”

Shiro takes his Winchester rifle from the wall and no one stops him, but Kuro is watching him.

_“78, 79, 80! Will you catch them? Maybe, maybe!”_ the record sings cheerfully.

Kuro sidles up to him, battleaxe in hand. “Your acting skills have gotten better, but you can’t fool me.”

Shiro stiffens. “Shut up,” he hisses.

Kuro leans in. “What are you gonna do, shoot grandma so you can run away with him and doom us all? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

Shiro narrows his eyes. “Don’t,” he warns. “Just because your happily ever after got ruined doesn’t mean ours has to be, too.”

“Everything alright over here, boys?” Shiro’s dad asks, eyebrows raised.

For a long painful second, Kuro stares at him, a deep and heated rage in his eyes. Then he turns back to their father and says with a smile sweet as sugar, “Fine. Just making sure Takashi still remembers how to use that thing.”

*

Under the bed, Keith lays still, listening frantically for any creak of the floorboards, any shadow out of place. The creepy record music drifting through the house has stopped, and it’s only a matter of time, now.

Keith adjusts his grip on the fireplace poker he stole on his way. Just in case.

Then he hears it — a crash in the distance, and the sound of running feet. Keith holds his breath, heart pounding, blood roaring in his ears.

Then someone behind him whispers, “Don’t scream.”

On instinct Keith kicks out, his foot connecting with the person’s gut before he’s yanked against them.

Keith is dragged out from under the bed, scratching the floor and struggling to slash with the poker at his attacker, to no avail. Their hand clamps over his mouth and he ends up shoved against the bedpost, writhing in their grasp. It’s not Shiro. Their cologne is cloying, choking.

They fumble behind him and he hears a faint dial tone, then, “Curtis, honey, I found him. He’s in their bedroom, come quick, before the others get here and say they found him first.”

“Fuck you, Ryou,” Keith wheezes, and bucks against him, poker trapped between his chest and the bedpost.

Ryou’s arm tightens where it’s wrapped around his middle. “Quick, Curtis. I can’t hold him forever.”

“Damn right you can’t,” Keith snaps, managing to twist his body at the right angle to get the poker free and jab it as hard as he can against his captor. Ryou screams and releases him.

Keith tries to stand with the poker, but encounters resistance, because the poker is stuck in Ryou. 

“Shit,” Ryou moans, slumped on the floor and staring at the poker in his side, “Takashi told you?!”

Keith glares down at him, still holding the other end of the poker. “Of course he fucking told me,” he snaps, _“HE’S MY HUSBAND AND WE LOVE EACH OTHER.”_

There are footsteps and shouts down the hall. Ryou opens his mouth. Keith narrows his eyes and yanks the poker out viciously.

Ryou screeches like a banshee on fire. There’s a lot of blood. Keith feels sick, but there’s no time to be sick, so instead he hefts the poker and looks for an escape route. He finds it the way Ryou must have come in — a doorway in the back wall. 

Of course they have secret passages in this damn house. Keith runs.

The door leads to a dim passageway, something that must have been a servant’s hallway at some point. Keith runs down the narrow stairs, desperately searching for an exit. Something. Anything. He’d take a damn sewer, at this point. But the hallway keeps on going, and going, and going – so Keith keeps running.

*

The Shiroganes find Ryou clutching his side and spitting curses, staining the rug with blood.

Shiro stops short in the doorway, eyes wide. Ryou sees him, and points with a shaky finger. _“You_ told him,” he gasps, “you told him about the ritual! He was armed!”

Shiro’s parents, Curtis, Kuro, his grandma, and his cousins turn to him. Shiro takes a step back.

_Run,_ Kuro mouths.

“Takashi,” his mother warns, “not a single step further. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Shiro isn’t listening. He sees the open servants’ door and knows where it leads. Heart in his throat and rifle in hand, he runs — Kuro is faster than him, but he has a head start.

*

Keith tears down the infinite hallway, afraid to look back. Flashlight beams cut through the darkness behind him, and voices echo, and his lungs burn, and he doubts his poker is gonna do much against whatever the Shiroganes are armed with.

The hallway abruptly ends in a single white door with suspicious rusty stains splattered across it. _Oh, great,_ Keith thinks.

Well, he hasn’t got much of a choice. Keith shoves the door open, and finds himself in a kitchen, standing face to face with a very large dog that looks like an actual, honest to God wolf.

_“GRRRR,”_ the too-scary-to-be-a-dog says. 

“Good puppy,” Keith whispers, edging along the wall. “Shhhh –”

The wolfdog, he realizes, is chained to a hook on the wall. It tugs at the chain, growling and straining, and then, as Keith edges towards the door, whining frantically. Keith pauses.

The door, sure enough, is locked, the electronic keypad beside it glowing a mocking red. The wolfdog whimpers at him.

“Shit,” Keith sighs, kicking the door and turning to the door he came from. They’ll catch up soon enough. There’s another door, back to the main house, but he’ll have no chance...unless...

Keith’s gaze drifts to the knife block. 

“Grr?” says the wolfdog as Keith slowly grins.

Keith doesn’t know much about dogs or wolves. But he does know that, theoretically, they like fetch.

“Hey, buddy,” Keith says, approaching the wolfdog slowly and praying this stupid, stupid plan will work. It tilts its head at him. “Wow, does this family suck or what? I’m sorry you’re stuck here. Do you wanna get out? Yeah?”

“Awoo woo,” the wolfdog says, sniffing the air warily. Its ears perk and it stares at the bloody fireplace poker, nose twitching in interest.

“Oh?” Keith waves the poker teasingly. “You want this?”

Its giant fluffy tail slowly begins to wag, thumping against the tile. It whines.

“Please don’t bite me...”

Holding his breath, Keith shuffles forward and reaches for the chain where it’s secured to the hook. The wolfdog leaps up and stares desperately up at him. “Wuff?” 

If he survives this, Keith is taking this poor guy with him and Shiro. Slowly, he unfastens the chain, and it slips free.

The wolfdog does not attack him. The wolfdog looks at him like he is its hero and drools gratefully all over his dress shoes. 

Keith gives it a pat and whispers, “Can you do something for me, bud?”

“Woooof,” it says. This roughly translates to: _Human, I would give you the world._

“Cool.” Keith takes a deep breath and goes over to the white, bloodstained door. The voices are closer. Too close. He opens the door and raises the fireplace poker. The wolfdog stares at it intently, poised to strike. “Okay....” Keith exhales, draws back, and hurls the poker down the hallway. “FETCH!”

He hears the Shiroganes shout as the poker clangs off something loudly, but that’s nothing compared to the racket the wolfdog makes as he joyfully howls and bolts down the servants’ hallway at full speed after the poker.

Amidst the clamor, Keith grabs two knives from the knife block and runs for the other door, throwing it open and running straight into somebody else. Keith doesn’t think; he snarls and slams them with all his strength against the nearest wall, the smaller of the knives to their throat and the larger raised threateningly.

“Babe,” Shiro wheezes, eyes huge. “Fuck. Hi.”

Keith stares up at him. “Shiro,” he whispers, and then, helpless, “Shiro – I – I didn’t know where you were, I thought – I don’t know what I thought –”

He lowers the knives, slumping into Shiro in relief. “Sorry,” Shiro whispers, “Ryou found you first. Nice job with stabbing him, though.”

“Shiro,” Keith says. “Shiro, this is fucking crazy.”

“Yep,” Shiro agrees. “Welcome to the family.”

Keith pauses. He peers at the weapon slung over Shiro’s shoulder. “You have a gun. A very big gun.”

“Had to pretend to want to kill you for long enough to get it, yeah.”

Keith searches his face anxiously. “I’m glad you were pretending,” he whispers. “I...for a minute there, I wasn’t sure if you were coming for me.”

“Keith,” Shiro whispers. “I’m not leaving you. Okay? It’s you and me now. And we’re getting out. Now.”

“Lead the way, Takashi.”

“We won’t have much time,” Shiro says as they run through the halls together. “I’ll have to shoot one of the doors open, which the rest of the family will hear, and –” He pauses. “Wait a second, did you meet Kosmo? He was in the kitchen, right?”

“The wolf?” Keith nods. “He’s cute.”

“Cute,” Shiro repeats. “Keith, he mauled the butler.”

“You don’t have a butler.”

“Exactly.”

Keith considers this, then shrugs. “Butler probably deserved it. Anyway, I unchained him and sent him off to say hi to your folks.”

Shiro opens his mouth. Closes it. “Huh.”

They continue jogging towards their escape, side by side. “Shiro,” Keith says, “if it comes down to it – if you have to hurt your family...”

“There’s a reason I got the gun, Keith.”

“Yeah, but –” Keith shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have to do that for me.”

“It’s not just for you,” Shiro murmurs. “This family...they gave me a lot. But they’ve also taken a lot away.”

Keith frowns. “Like what, Shiro?”

He can’t help but glance at Shiro’s right arm, burnished titanium under his suit jacket. Shiro sighs. “A lot,” he repeats. “C’mon.”

They reach the door out to the garden, and Keith watches Shiro’s back while Shiro aims at the lock, finger tightening on the trigger. 

“How many times have you used that before?” Keith asks quietly, struck by how natural Shiro’s stance is and how easily he handles the weapon.

Shiro grits his teeth. “Way too many,” he admits, and fires.

Keith knew it would be loud, but _holy shit is it loud,_ the shot ringing out through the silent hallway, and ringing, and ringing. The busted lock smokes and a distant alarm goes off as the lock clicks open. They don’t need any more encouragement to run for it.

The night air is bitterly cold. “Should’ve had a summer wedding,” Keith mutters, running after Shiro as he jogs down the steps and through the looming topiary hedges. 

“Then we’d have to deal with mosquitoes _and_ murderous relatives,” Shiro counters. “Look on the bright side.”

“No.”

Shiro winces. “I’m sorry,” he says in a small voice. “I know that doesn’t even begin to cover it, but...”

“Shiro,” Keith sighs, “this is all horrible, but...I’m not mad at you. Somehow.”

Shiro gives him a small, sad smile. “Promise I’ll give you a way better wedding night later.”

Keith snorts. “Better than a six minute blowjob?”

“God, so much better,” Shiro vows fervently. “What’s your wildest fantasy? I’ll do it. Anything.”

Keith looks at him in fond exasperation. “What if it’s something _super_ weird? What if we’re both freaks, huh?”

“I think we already established that,” Shiro points out. “I was raised by psychopathic Devil worshippers, and you’re a wolf tamer, apparently.”

“Those aren’t even comparable.”

“You clearly know how to use knives.”

“Yeah. I cook. Vegetables. And stuff.”

“Do you cut the throats of carrots?”

Keith gives him a sideways glance and walks faster through the garden, the gate to the main grounds in sight. “Can’t a man have his secrets?”

“Guess so,” Shiro relents. “I certainly kept too many from you.”

“Were you scared I would leave?” Keith murmurs.

“Of course. Terrified.”

Keith pauses beside the rose bushes, brushing his fingertips over the first spring blooms, and looks up at Shiro. “I wouldn’t have left,” he says quietly. “Maybe that would be the wise thing to do, but...” He shakes his head. “I’d do a lot of things to be your husband, Shiro.”

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, shaky, “I...”

“Later,” Keith says gently, and plucks one of the red roses, tucking it into Shiro’s lapel pocket, where the original white rose has come unpinned. “Anyway, you’re not a freak. For someone raised by Devil worshippers, you’re actually pretty vanilla.”

Shiro gawks at him. “You take that back, I am not! _I’m_ not the one who didn’t know what shibari was!”

Keith shrugs. “I knew about handcuffs, same concept. Anyway, you don’t know how to _do_ shibari.”

Shiro pauses. “Do you want me to learn shibari for our wedding night do-over?”

Keith grins. “I’m surviving tonight just for that.”

_“Just_ for that?” Shiro sighs dramatically. “I _knew_ you only loved me for my body.”

“It’s a definite perk,” Keith agrees, “but trust me, no dick would be good enough to convince me to stay in this mess.”

Shiro nods sagely. “Probably better, much more risk-free dildos out there, honestly.”

“Definitely,” Keith agrees, hurrying out of the gardens with him, “but none of those are my best friend.”

Shiro stumbles. “Wow,” he says. “That may be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Keith laughs – then freezes as a flashlight beam cuts across the lawn. Shiro grabs Keith’s hand and tugs him behind the nearest tree, one of the great oaks dotting the estate grounds. They huddle against it as Shiro peeks around and swears. “My cousins are guarding the gates.”

Keith looks at him frantically. “Then what do we do?” 

“We can try to go around the house, there’s another exit, maybe, or we just have to face my cousins and try not to get shot –”

“Shiro,” Keith whispers, staring in horror at the flashlights in the garden, “whatever we do, we need to move.”

“Shit,” Shiro agrees. “Well...into the goat barn it is, then. Come on, hurry.”

“Sorry,” Keith hisses, “the _what now?”_

Shiro just shakes his head. “Follow me.”

They run from tree to tree, headed – to Keith’s dismay – away from the gates, & towards a small, low building.

It’s a goat barn. Keith doesn’t know what he expected. 

“Back here,” Shiro says, “there’s an empty stall.”

“Baaaa,” the goats say.

“Why,” Keith whispers, “do you have goats?”

“Move, Lucifer,” Shiro tells a goat in their way. It’s white with beady yellow eyes and sharp horns.

“You did _not_ name the goat Lucifer.”

“What? That one’s Belphegor, that’s Beelzebub – Bub for short – and that one is Leviathan, because she likes water –” Shiro shrugs. “Gotta have _some_ fun with the Devil sacrifices.”

Keith stares at the goats with dread. “Oh,” he whispers. “I thought you made, like, cheese.”

“We do make cheese,” Shiro admits, “at least, we did when my mom had her late forties wine and cheese parties phase – nevermind. Hide behind here, there’s a bunch of old wheelbarrows and things...”

Keith goes, then sees the cellar doors in the middle of the barn. They’re padlocked shut with a rusty chain. “What’s in there?”

_“Hide, Keith.”_

Keith tears his gaze away from the ominous doors and hides, crouched with him in the straw and smell of goats. “What’s in the cellar, Shiro?” he whispers. The Shiroganes’ shouts carry far. Shiro holds his rifle firm, but Keith sees the sweat on his brow. 

“The other ones they found,” Shiro says, voice low. “I won’t let them put you in there.”

Keith stares at the cellar. He imagines the smell of rot, then isn’t so sure if it’s just his imagination, or if it’s truly rising up from the straw-laden earth, centuries worth of death beneath their feet. Heart pounding, he looks at Shiro, at his dark profile and the gleam of moonlight on his hair. 

There’s a smudge of dirt high on his cheek. Keith reaches up to rub it off, but Shiro catches his wrist and squeezes gently.

“Listen,” Shiro whispers. 

Footsteps. Close. 

There’s the crunch, crunch of dead leaves and then — the sound changes to the crunch of straw. Keith’s breath hitches. A shadow falls across the barn. Shiro shakes his head. Keith stays tucked into his side, covering his own mouth.

“The bastard’s gotta be somewhere around here.” _Ryou._ And he doesn’t sound happy. Keith’s brow lowers. He should have aimed a little higher with the poker.

“Don’t worry, sweetpea, we’ll find him,” Curtis says.

_Sweetpea?_ Keith mouths to Shiro.

_I HATE HIM,_ Shiro mouths back.

“Both of them,” Ryou growls. “We still have to take care of Takashi, too.”

Keith tenses. Shiro goes very still. “Surely he can be reasoned with,” Curtis says. “He’s not _stupid,_ right?”

“That demon of a husband makes him an idiot,” Ryou retorts. “That’s what ‘love’ does to you.”

Keith can almost hear Curtis’s pout. “But aren’t _we_ in love, sweetpea?”

Ryou is silent, the only sound that of his harsh breaths. Ouch, Keith thinks.

Curtis sounds rather less loving when he adds, “Don’t do something you’re gonna regret. You have to wait for your parents to make a final judgment before doing anything to Takashi anyway –”

“Shut up,” Ryou snaps. “Look. Footprints.”

Keith’s heart skips a beat. He looks at Shiro. He looks at the approaching shadow. Shiro’s gaze slides to him. He’s shaking.

Ryou chuckles. “Think we found the little piggy. Wonder if he’s all alone or hiding in goat shit with my poor, idiot big brother...”

“Shouldn’t we call the others over?” Curtis asks nervously. 

“No,” Ryou snaps. “Just _once,_ I want to have this honor. Besides...it’s payback time.”

Shiro’s gaze flickers, and his jaw sets as Ryou approaches their hiding place. There’s no way he won’t see them if he reaches the last stall. Keith tastes bile, and the smell of rot grows in a hazy miasma, stinging his eyes and throat. He doesn’t want to see what’s in that cellar. 

He sees Ryou’s shoe around the wheelbarrow. 

Shiro’s rifle lifts slowly.

“Nice of you to return that poker to me,” Ryou calls out, and Keith’s heart sinks, seeing it clutched viciously in his whiteknuckled hand. “I hope Kosmo gave you a proper greeting, asshole.” He scoffs. “Thankfully, the ritual says you need to be alive, but not in one piece...”

Shiro cocks the rifle.

Ryou turns at the loud _click._ Keith sees the whites of his eyes as his smug expression transforms into one of shock, staring down the barrel of the antique Winchester. 

“Thankfully, the ritual says nothing about you, little brother,” Shiro retorts, and pulls the trigger. 

Keith chokes on a scream.

Ryou falls. Nobody could survive that. Keith sways as Shiro drags him to his feet.

Curtis is in the middle of the barn. He stares at them for a long moment, then he screams at the top of his lungs, _“They’re in the goat barn!”_

Shiro swears and tugs Keith down as Curtis starts shooting, his aim absolutely terrible, bullets spraying across the barn. The goats bleat and cower in their stalls.

“Shiro,” Keith gasps, gripping his knives, one tucked in his belt and the other in hand, “we – we need to run –”

“No,” Shiro says, face grim and pale and blood-splattered, _“you_ need to run. Now. Go.” He kicks the side of the barn, where rotting planks give way to a vaguely Keith-sized hole.

“I’m not leaving you,” Keith gasps, “Takashi – don’t make me leave you.”

More shadows fall across the barn floor and more shots are fired. The goats cower in the straw, others run out in a panic. They’re cornered, trapped, but Shiro’s given him an out. Of course he has. _Fuck._

“They’re my family,” Shiro whispers, “I’ll – I’ll be okay, Keith.”

It’s a lie. It’s a fucking lie and they both know it. 

“Don’t forget,” Keith whispers, “about our wedding night do-over. Swear to me. It’s gonna happen.”

“Yes,” Shiro says, his voice breaking, “I promise, Keith – now _go –”_

“I love you,” Keith whispers, and then, softer, “goddammit, Takashi,” as he turns away and breaks fully through the boards, sprinting free of the barn and across the grounds. 

Unfortunately, his escape does not go unnoticed. A lone figure slips from the barn, breaking into a run after him with single-minded determination. Keith doesn’t see them follow, running through the trees and almost tripping over a tree root when a shot rings out, followed by Shiro’s unmistakable cry. 

Tears stinging his eyes and blurring his vision, Keith struggles to run faster, only for another volley of shots to ring out, this time much closer behind.

Keith has to either keep running and risk getting caught in the gunfire or cower behind a tree and hope they somehow don’t find him. 

He’s never been very good at cowering. 

Lungs burning, Keith pushes onward, gasping hard as heat races past his shoulder, followed by a stab of burning pain.

He’s been shot, he realizes dizzily, or grazed at least — his left side is wet with blood dripping down from his wounded shoulder, staining through his suit jacket to the white button-up beneath. Numbly, Keith falters, another shot barely missing his ear. It can’t end like this. Surely, this can’t be it.

He’s far away from the goat barn, but his pursuer is relentless, and when he glances over his shoulder he sees it’s fucking _Curtis,_ and that gives him the anger he needs to keep running, because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna die at the hands of that absolute milquetoast. 

Another shot fires — then a wolf howls.

Keith stumbles into cover as Curtis stops short, turning away from Keith to fire frantically into the darkness. One of the shadows splits away from the rest, and then it’s barreling towards him. Keith peeks out from behind the tree as Curtis shrieks and turns to run, too late. Kosmo lunges for his throat, jaws snapping, knocking him to the ground. He doesn’t get up again.

Keith watches, eyes wide, rethinking his previous assessment of Kosmo. He doesn’t think there’s any dog in there, actually – because he’s pretty damn sure he’s witnessing a wolf attack and it is brutal. 

Keith won’t admit to squeaking when Kosmo leaves Curtis and pads over to Keith.

“Good wolf,” Keith whispers, slowly standing because it seems like a bad idea to kneel before a wolf, especially one that just killed a man. “Uh – what are you – um. Thanks, Kosmo.”

Kosmo licks his hand. The wolf’s entire muzzle is bloodied and Curtis isn’t moving anymore. Kosmo says, “Whuff.” It means, _I OWE YOU MY LIFE._

Crouched behind the tree with Kosmo, Keith peers out to see the Shiroganes emerging from the goat barn, dragging someone in tow. He tenses, every fiber of his being telling him to run to Shiro, but knowing that to do so would be certain death. Kosmo whines and noses his shoulder gently.

"I know," Keith whispers, "we gotta get out of here, buddy." And as for Shiro – Keith will figure that out as soon as he has some advantage here, because for now, he's a sitting duck. 

He scans the grounds, gaze wandering back to the gates, where the Shirogane cousins stand guard.

Kosmo cocks his head as if to say, _More mauling?_

Keith nods and hurries towards the gates with him, crouched in the verdant grass and keeping behind as many trees as possible. "We gotta be smart about this," he warns. "If they shoot, the others will hear the gunfire, so..." He presses a finger to his lips. 

Kosmo's tail wags in understanding. Quiet mauling, he can do.

The gates are not far from a large oak tree, and Keith eyes it, noting the low-hanging branch that one could feasibly swing up onto. Kosmo eyes him curiously as they near it, and Keith points to the cousins. 

“Go on,” Keith whispers, “say hi. Be as distracting as possible, please.”

Kosmo does the wolf equivalent of a shrug and bounds over to the cousins, tongue lolling, thankfully not going straight into attack mode. Shiro’s cousins are somehow even bigger and broader than him and Kuro, and also seem to be identical twins. What are the chances of that?

“Hey! Eiji, someone let Kosmo out!” the cousin with a crossbow exclaims.

“Don’t blame me, Daichi, you know you couldn’t pay me enough to go near that thing after what it did to Alfred – oh, shit. Why is the wolf covered in blood?”

“WUFF,” Kosmo declares, tongue lolling.

While the twins cautiously debate why Kosmo looks like he just committed a murder and avoid coming to the simplest conclusion: because he did, Keith creeps over to the oak tree. He tucks his other knife in his belt alongside the first to swing himself up onto the branch and into the tree. It creaks but holds firm. Well, at least some things are going his way tonight.

With bated breath, Keith crawls along the branch conveniently located over the cousins, but of course Keith’s luck could only hold for so long – Kosmo notices him and lets out a joyful bark, leaping up to try to give him a kiss. Keith winces as, slowly, both cousins look up. 

So much for finesse and stealth. Keith grabs both knives from his belt and leaps from the tree.

“What the _shit,”_ Eiji manages a moment before Keith lands on his head, anchoring himself with a knife buried deep in Eiji’s buff-and-very-useful-as-a-target shoulder.

“Takashi married a fucking psycho,” Daichi snarls, reaching for his crossbow.

Kosmo bristles. Keith is _FRIEND._

“Daichi,” Eiji manages, clawing at Keith uselessly, “look out –”

Kosmo closes his jaws around Daichi’s arm, ripping it from the weapon and his body. Kosmo doesn’t think _that_ was very quiet. Oops. 

Eiji opens his mouth to scream for help and Keith stabs his neck, aiming for the jugular and mostly missing. It’s kind of a mess.

Kosmo dutifully goes about making sure Daichi stops screaming, then pauses, because his new friend is still stabbing Eiji’s neck. Kosmo tilts his head. He’s pretty sure the other human is definitely dead, and Keith is now covered in arterial spray, but he doesn’t stop until Eiji topples facedown into the grass beside his dismembered brother.

Keith’s shoulder is still bleeding, and something is torn in there, but he feels completely numb when he yanks the knife from Eiji’s shoulder and scrambles away from his body. Daichi is in a similar state to Curtis, and Keith may not be a wolf, but damn if Eiji doesn’t look like he’s been mauled too.

“Fuck,” Keith gasps, slipping in the blood on the grass and stumbling upright, bracing himself on the tree and sucking in panicked breaths. “Oh, god.”

Kosmo huffs at him impatiently, looking at the house, where shadows are spilling out to search the grounds again. “Yeah,” Keith pants. “I know. I know. Let’s go, buddy.”

Kosmo is impressed. His small new friend is ferocious. But he also smells very, very afraid. Kosmo blinks up at him and trails him as he runs to the gate, watching as he yanks desperately on it — but it’s locked tightly. 

“No,” Keith gasps, “no, there has to be – a way – _please…”_

Keith tries to heave himself up to climb the wrought iron fence like he did the tree, but his left shoulder screams in protest, and Keith realizes his attack on Eiji must have aggravated the wound, because he can’t keep his grip on that side at all. Furiously, Keith tugs at the iron bars again, refusing to admit defeat.

One of the bars is slightly bent, and as Keith eyes the space between them, he thinks if he can bend that one back far enough, it might be just enough to get through. The issue with that plan is that the wrought iron is decorated with sharp spikes at the top of each bar. 

Keith grits his teeth and pulls the bar.

It takes every bit of strength in him to wrench the wrought iron slowly, painfully backwards. Kosmo helpfully bounces around him, yipping in agitation – the Shiroganes are nearing the goat barn, and soon Keith will be within their line of sight. Keith strains against the metal, and he can feel the wound on his shoulder tearing, but it doesn’t matter, he can’t think about the pain, because if he doesn’t get out, doesn’t find a way to help Shiro, then they’re probably both going to die here.

The wrought iron groans and at last gives way with a terrific shriek of metal. 

“Look! He’s at the gates!”

Keith tries to wriggle through the gap between the bars, but it’s too tight; he’s not gonna make it – but he has to. The pointed tips of the bars are in his way, but not impassable. Keith takes a deep breath, grits his teeth and presses forward, the iron slicing across his chest and back.

Kosmo barks, sniffing the air, smelling the blood and whining anxiously. Keith squeezes his eyes shut, drawing in shallow lungfuls of air and pressing ever forward. It hurts because he’s alive. As long as he’s alive, he’ll feel the hurt, and as long as he feels that, he’ll be okay. “Kosmo, run,” Keith hisses.

Kosmo doesn’t want to leave his ferocious new friend, but the approaching humans frighten him, and he doesn’t want to be chained up by them in that cold dark room again. 

He whines, tail curling between his legs and ears pinned back, and bounds away just as Keith shoves through the fence with a gasp.

The Shirogane home is in the middle of nowhere, because of fucking course it is. Keith looks desperately on the road for any sight of any cars, but it’s perfectly silent save for the chirping of crickets and a distant owl. Before him lies dark woodland. Keith swears, and runs for it.

Keith doesn’t know how long he runs for, but he does know that he’s losing blood, or maybe he’s just in shock, or both, but either way he has to stop eventually, panting, pressing his palm to his torn shirt and feeling the shallow gashes from the gate. They’ll scar, probably.

He doesn’t even want to see the ones on his back, because he knows those are even worse. He can’t even feel his shoulder anymore, and he’s starting to wonder if he was actually grazed or really just shot. His chin quivers, and he wipes furiously at his eyes. He’s _not_ gonna cry right now. He refuses.

He’s not gonna cry, even though what was supposed to be one of the happiest days of his life has turned into a living nightmare. 

And god, part of Keith wants to blame Shiro. Part of him _wants_ to be furious with his husband for dragging him into this, but...it takes two to tango. Keith sighs. Shiro had dodged the topic of marriage as much as possible, had tried not to involve Keith, but Keith was set on it. And now he’s here.

Keith struggles upright again with a pained grunt, then looks at his belt and sees he’s lost a knife. Cool. Just what he needed.

As he trudges through the woods, he tries not to imagine what might be happening to Shiro right now. He killed Ryou, and Keith doubts the Shiroganes are the forgiving type. At least the sole witness on their side, Curtis, is now dead as a doornail.

But if this stupid curse is real, if this tradition is more than an excuse for murderous bullshit, then Shiro will die anyway if Keith gets away, right? Keith swallows. Shiro’s expression when Keith proposed to him six months ago makes sense, now. He’d looked so conflicted, pained.

Keith had mistaken it for rejection, and had been sure he was about to lose the love of his life, but then Shiro’s face had crumpled and he’d hugged Keith so tight and whispered, “Yes,” and Keith never wanted him to let go. He still doesn’t want to.

That was a fairytale...and this? This is a horror movie.

If Keith were a luckier man, he would have pulled any of the other cards, not the _one card_ that would doom him. But Keith’s never been very lucky. 

Maybe Shiro hasn’t been, either. Keith has no pity for the rich, but he knows Shiro left his family as soon as he could, moved to the other side of the country for college and has actively avoided them ever since. Until now.

Keith pauses, breathing hard and looking around him. The trees all look the same. Overhead, the moon is a widely grinning crescent. His head hurts. His body hurts. His heart hurts. He focuses on these hurts and keeps walking — then pauses at the sound of an approaching car.

The road. He’s found the main road! Keith breaks into a run, then pauses again, confused — the car isn’t passing. The engine is stalled, humming just up ahead. Keith takes a step back. What...?

A familiar shape comes bounding towards him. It’s Kosmo. 

“...How did you get out?”

“Awooo!” Kosmo stops short of him, head tilted and golden eyes bright. 

Keith gulps. “Kosmo,” he whispers, “who let you out?”

Car headlights flood through the trees with light, framing the silhouette of a man with a crossbow. Keith turns to run. The man sighs and the bow _clicks._

Keith muffles his cry in his fist as he stumbles and falls, the crossbow bolt protruding from his calf. He can’t put weight on it. He can’t run. _He can’t run._ Frantically, Keith crawls through the undergrowth, clawing the loose soil and dry tree roots. Leisurely footsteps follow him.

“Well, you made it pretty far,” the man says. Keith falters, pulse thudding. It’s Kuro. “Farther than any of the others. For whatever that’s worth.”

“Kosmo,” Keith gasps, “get him –”

Kuro laughs. “Oh, come on. He’s not _your_ wolf. He’s such a good boy, he led me right to you.”

“No...”

“Oh, yes,” Kuro chuckles. Kosmo pads over and gives Keith a lick on the cheek. His breath smells like steak and Keith shudders, turning away. Kosmo whines, huffs, and pads away. 

When Keith looks over his shoulder, the wolf is sitting obediently beside Kuro, head tilted.

“Fuck,” Keith says, and stops crawling. There’s nowhere to go. “Traitor,” he mutters to Kosmo.

Kuro clicks his tongue. “Don’t be mean. He knows who his master is.” He smiles and gives Kosmo a scratch behind the ears. Kosmo drools happily. “Anyway....you and I need to have a talk.”

“A talk,” Keith snaps. “That why you _shot me in the leg?”_

Kuro shrugs. “Can’t have you running off. That habit of yours is very annoying.”

Keith holds still as he approaches, but slowly reaches for his remaining knife. “Your habit of trying to sacrifice me is also annoying.”

Kuro chuckles. “Yes, I imagine it is.” He glances down at his wristwatch. “Oh, dear. We don’t have much time if I’m getting you back there before dawn.”

“Wait,” Keith gasps, hand closing around his knife, “I thought we were talking –”

Kuro shrugs. “Maybe. If you’re good.”

“I’ll be good,” Keith whispers. Kuro steps closer. Keith eyes the exposed patch of skin between his hairline and shirt collar. “Whatever you want.”

Kuro rolls his eyes. “Oh, save it. Lying through your teeth with a knife at the ready? Classy.” He raises the crossbow and loads a new bolt.

Keith shakes his head, releasing the knife. “No, don’t, I’m sorry –”

“No, you’re not,” Kuro drawls, and fires the crossbow again. Keith stares at the bolt in his arm. It’s capped with red feathers. 

The tranquilizer works fast, and Keith hears Kosmo’s worried whine before everything goes black.

*

Keith wakes up in bleary stages, face squished against a car window. It’s still dark outside, and Kuro is in the driver’s seat across from him. The radio is off. Kosmo is taking up the whole backseat of the Mercedes and yawns at him in greeting. 

Keith is hogtied, immobile, and hurts all over, but...his shoulder is bandaged.

As he takes stock, he realizes the crossbow bolts have also been removed and the wound in his leg is staunched with gauze. Bewildered, Keith blinks at the eldest Shirogane. 

“Took you long enough,” Kuro says. “Less than two hours to sunrise. Time flies when you’re having fun, hm?”

Keith wets his dry lips. “Where are you taking me?” he whispers. The road is quiet, long and dark.

“That depends,” Kuro replies, leaning back. 

“On _what?”_ He’s frustrated and scared and apparently hungry, because his stomach grumbles.

Kuro eyes him. “Should’ve had more wedding cake.”

Keith’s eyes narrow. “Shiro never told me his twin was such a dick.”

“Really?” Kuro sounds genuinely surprised. “Is that because he never talked about me at all?”

Keith frowns. “He did...sometimes.”

“Yeah. Sure. Tell me, what were you and Shiro doing five years ago?”

Keith stares. “Uh – I didn’t know Shiro then, but – wasn’t that when he got engaged the first time?”

“Bingo,” Kuro says. “Adam. Not a bad man, no, but practical. He knew who Shiro was, knew we had money. He needed money. And poor, naive Shiro thought his insistence on marriage was just _love.”_

Keith’s brow furrows. “So he broke off the engagement?” Kuro nods. “Okay. That’s not – that has nothing to do with me, why –”

“You know,” Kuro murmurs, “you remind me of someone. I hate that you do, I really do. But Takashi and I always had...similar taste.” He sighs.

Keith swallows. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, but the look in Kuro’s eyes has shifted to something like grief, dull and dark.

“Something else happened five years ago,” Kuro says, quietly. “A year before Shiro’s doomed first engagement, I got engaged. It was such a beautiful wedding.”

Keith’s breath hitches. _Oh, fuck._

“But then, you know, things went downhill from there.” Kuro’s smile is sharp and tight. “Takashi wasn’t there, anyway. I believe he and Adam were at a resort in the Bahamas, pretending he wasn’t part of a Satanic fucking cult family. And where was I?”

“Kuro –”

“Nice of you to ask. While Takashi was sunbathing, I was watching my husband die horribly. I didn’t tell him about the ritual. I didn’t tell him because I didn’t think he would choose the one goddamn murder hunt card. But it’s funny how these things turn out, isn't it?”

Keith exhales. “I...I’m sorry.”

Kuro’s mouth twitches. “You weren’t the one who quite literally stabbed him in the heart, that was Ryou. I heard Takashi shot his head off? I’m impressed you have that much influence over him, to make a man like Takashi turn to fratricide.”

“I didn’t want him to do that,” Keith starts.

“Well I did,” Kuro replies. “Ryou was a shit brother. My whole family, frankly, is shit.”

Keith clears his throat. “What do you want from me, Kuro?”

“From you?” Kuro scoffs. “Nothing. But I know it would break Takashi if you died.”

Keith eyes him. “Is that what you want? Revenge, because he wasn’t there?”

“Hah,” Kuro says. “You really think we’re all monsters, huh? I wonder what you think of Takashi now, too. Wanna know who he’s hurt, who he’s killed for our damn family?”

Keith hesitates. “I –”

Kuro looks away. “The answer is no one,” he says softly. “Takashi is the best of us. He always has been. If anyone was gonna escape from this hellhole, it was always gonna be him. It has to be. I just don’t know yet if you’re the one that will let him.”

“Escape?” Keith pauses. “Then – you don’t believe in the curse, the ritual?”

“Of course I believe it,” Kuro retorts. “It’s real, believe that. But it’s also bullshit. I mean, what fuckin asshole makes a deal with the Devil to have endless fortune in exchange for _that?”_

“Um.” Keith is unsure if the question is rhetorical. “Probably...a pretty big asshole.”

“Yes,” Kuro agrees. “And what kind of asshole family agrees to carry on that tradition for centuries?”

“A...an asshole family that doesn’t want to die?”

“At this point, maybe they should.”

Keith doesn't know what to say to that. He looks down and whispers, "I don't want Takashi to die."

Kuro is quiet for a while. Then he makes a turn, heading off the main road and down another quiet, winding path. "Did Shiro ever tell you how he lost his arm?"

"No. I never asked."

“Even if you had, he wouldn’t have told you the whole story.” Kuro hums. “We were fourteen. We’d been...lucky, for awhile. Everyone pulled normal, good cards. The card selection is supposed to be random, but honestly? I think the Devil has a sick sense of humor. My grandma finally decided to remarry after grandpa died. Guess how that went.”

“Hide and seek?”

Kuro nods. “So, everyone went into murder mode after the guy. Grandma was pretty torn up about it, she stayed behind. This was me and Takashi’s first hunt. Of course Dad was so excited for us to learn the ropes, sick bastard, but I could tell Kashi was scared. He couldn’t even hunt animals, much less people.”

Keith watches Kuro carefully. He keeps his eyes on the road, but Keith gets the sense he’s somewhere far away. “So I told him to hide. Once it started, once we had our guns and had all split up, I told him to find somewhere safe and not come out ‘til dawn. He did it. He trusted me.”

“He hid until dawn?”

“Oh, he tried to,” Kuro sighs. “But grandma’s new husband wasn’t going down without a fight, and I don’t know how it happened, but – Kashi was hiding in the dumbwaiter, and the bastard must have found him, because he shut him in there – he closed it on Kashi’s arm.”

Keith sucks in a breath. “Oh. Fuck.”

“Yeah. I found him like that as the guy was running away. I didn’t even think. I shot him. So many times. By the time I managed to get Kashi out, he was almost unconscious. He was terrified, kept saying he saw ghosts in there, saw the Devil, said it was gonna drag him to Hell.” Kuro smiles grimly. “And you know what? You know what our family cared about? Oh, they made a big _show_ of cooing over Kashi and _what a shame it was_ that the arm had to go. But what they _really_ cared about was that I almost killed the man before the ritual; I almost broke tradition.”

“You’re right,” Keith says after a pause.

Kuro blinks, snapped out of his near-trance. “What?”

“Your family should die,” Keith says. “Full offense.” He frowns. “But not Takashi. I won’t let him. I don’t care if the Devil himself says that’s tradition. It’s a bad tradition.”

Kuro’s mouth twitches. He looks out the window. “Unfortunately, breaking traditions in a happy way isn’t easy. Way I see it, you have two choices. Either I drop you off here and you run away and never look back...or I bring you back to my family and we finish this once and for all.”

“I won’t leave Shiro.”

“Good,” Kuro says pleasantly. “Because if you chose option one, I would have shot you somewhere deadlier than in the leg, ritual be damned.”

Keith gulps. “That’s fair,” he mumbles, “I would probably have done the same, in your position.”

“Aren’t you glad you chose the good twin?”

Keith lets out a noncommittal grunt, leaning against the window and wiggling his toes, hoping he’s not losing circulation. “Was...your husband also so, um...”

Kuro laughs. It’s a sad sound. His fingers flex on the wheel. “No,” he says. “No, he was sweet. Sweeter than I deserved, probably.”

“I feel that way about Shiro sometimes,” Keith admits.

"Why don't you think you deserve him?"

Keith chews his lip. "I mean...you know him. Would anyone think they deserved Takashi Shirogane?"

"I'm sure Adam thought he did."

"Yeah, well. I met Shiro at a dive bar. I wasn't setting my sights on fortune, or the future."

Kuro grins. "A dive bar?"

Keith’s not sure why he’s telling Kuro all this. Maybe because, if he’s gonna die, he wants someone else to know.

“Yeah,” Keith says. “I got so wasted. I think I wanted to hook up with him in the alley behind the dumpster but he took me home instead and just...put me to bed.”

“Did he tuck you in?” Kuro giggles. 

“He brought me breakfast in bed the next morning,” Keith says. “I didn’t know what the hell was happening. I thought I was just going out for a one night stand in a club bathroom or something.”

“Ha,” Kuro mutters, “yeah, I would have definitely just fucked you in the bathroom.”

Keith eyes him. “That how you met _your_ husband?”

“Uh.” Kuro gets suddenly very flustered. “Not...exactly. He was a florist. I like cacti. Don’t look at me like that. I have a reputation, okay?”

Keith whistles. “Did you have a candlelit dinner for your first date?” Kuro’s jaw tightens. “Oh, wow. You did.”

“Shut up,” Kuro mumbles, but he’s blushing. “It...was nice. He made me feel nice.” His shoulders slump. “I miss him.”

Keith wonders why Kuro is telling him all this. Then he realizes that Kuro probably thinks he might die before tomorrow comes, too.

“You know,” Keith says, “I wish you hadn’t shot me with a crossbow, but I don’t think you’re the evil twin. I don’t think you want to be that.”

Kuro sighs. “Are you prepared to die for that thought?”

Keith blinks at him. “....Isn’t the goal not to die?”

“If we’re gonna do this,” Kuro mutters, “you’re going to have to trust me. We have to trick everyone. Including Takashi. Including the Devil.”

Keith squints at him. “Are you gonna shoot me again?”

“Hopefully not,” Kuro says, “but the bandages are gonna have to come off. Sorry. Hopefully they helped with the blood loss situation.” Keith gawks at him and Kuro shrugs. “What? Why did you think I shot you? It seems evil. Duh.”

“Do you have an actual plan here?” Keith demands.

Kuro gives him a scathing look. “Do either of us seem like the planning type?”

“........”

“I have a theory,” Kuro admits. “If it’s real, you get your happily ever after. If not, yikes. We tried. And I bring my family down with me. Win win, sort of.”

“And Shiro?” Keith demands.

Kuro exhales. His hands tighten on the steering wheel. “We’re going to try to save him,” he says. “Emphasis on try. I don’t know if if it’ll work. But I do know he’d want you to try, too. And if the sun comes up and he and I both die – enjoy the fortune.”

“This isn’t a very good plan,” Keith whispers.

“But it’s the one we got,” Kuro retorts. “Hour ‘til sunrise. Sorry in advance. None of this is gonna be fun.”

“Oh,” Keith says, “I dunno. Fucking over the Devil and the Shiroganes sounds like fun to me.”

Kuro grins and hits the gas.

*

Shiro is in a small, dark room, and it’s when he realizes just how small the space is that he starts to panic.

Suddenly, he’s not thirty-two on his wedding night — he’s fourteen, trapped in a dumbwaiter, right arm crushed between two solid iron panels; he can’t feel his fingers, anything, nothing.

But he can’t feel the walls here, he can see them and they’re further apart and he isn’t curled up, but instead tied to a chair, and as he stumbles through his hazy memory he pieces it together. 

He got hit in the head, he thinks, by his dad. With the barrel of the rifle he killed Ryou with.

Ah, shit. He killed Ryou. Right. But – he had no choice.

No, that’s not true, of course he had a choice. He could have chosen family. He could have – but he didn’t. He hasn’t chosen family for a while and they know it, they all do. Especially Kuro. Shiro shivers. Kuro hates him.

At least, Kuro has every reason to hate him...and Keith. Shiro swallows back tears and bile frantically. If Kuro finds Keith – if he’s in the mood for revenge – no. His brother was good once. He’s changed, but – but surely he won’t be that cruel. Shiro’s just trying to convince himself.

And Keith...Keith can take care of himself. Shiro’s always known Keith’s plenty capable of that, more than that, he hasn’t really had a choice in his life. Keith was the only person who Keith could trust and count on. 

And now – well, Shiro was supposed to be his person, his anchor.

Shiro _wanted_ to be that for Keith, so badly. The moment he realized he loved Keith was when Keith really and truly let down his guard for the first time, stopped constantly watching his back and second-guessing and just...trusted Shiro to be there and for it to be okay as long as he was.

Shiro wanted to be someone Keith could trust. Someone worth setting aside all that fear and uncertainty and cynicism for. Someone worth staying with ‘til death do we part.

And now here they are. Shiro squeezes his eyes shut. Who was he kidding? He doesn’t think he can be that person after all, and the realization feels like a punch to the gut.

He hopes that Keith is far, far away even as it hurts to consider that Keith would run away and never look back. Shiro wouldn’t blame him. This shit is insane. But it hurts, anyway. 

When they were hiding in the barn, though, Keith didn’t want to leave him. When he had met Shiro’s eyes then, he was afraid, yes, but also shining with resolve, with the same relentless, stubborn passion that Shiro fell in love with. Shiro clings to that.

He counts his breaths in the darkness, trying to take stock of his surroundings. He realizes they’ve locked him in some kind of closet, and absurdly, he starts to laugh, a breathless little wheeze he can’t seem to control. Shiro left the closet a long time ago, or so he thought. He came out as a senior in high school, when a boy asked him out to prom in secret. 

They didn’t end up going to the prom as an official couple – that would’ve been social suicide – but they spent hours at Denny’s over endless pancakes and soda, and after that, it didn’t feel right to hide it from his parents anymore. Even if he broke up with the boy a month later after he decided to sleep with another guy. So much for true love.

Of course, Kuro made that a little easier for him (and Ryou) when their parents caught him blowing a guy in the sitting room when he was fifteen. That wasn’t the first time, just the first time they found out about it. Shiro’s sure if you took a black light to that room, you’d never want to touch another surface in there again.

Meanwhile, Shiro was having palpitations over an unrequited crush.

He and his twin are very different people. But Shiro can’t help but wonder what their lives might have been like if they were...at least halfway normal. If sacrificing goats to Satan wasn’t a normal Sunday activity. It’s hard to imagine. Shiro’s sense of “normalcy” is nonexistent.

Did Keith make him feel normal? Not exactly. He made Shiro feel...like there was something else, something better than unending loyalty to the family for the sake of everlasting fortune. Some of the best times he’d had with Keith were over instant noodles at Keith’s tiny, dented kitchen table, after all. 

Of course, Shiro knows not everyone is born with such a silver spoon, cursed though that spoon may be. He’ll admit to quietly buying as many things for Keith as Keith was comfortable with, and when Keith learned of his family’s fortune, he got a little more comfortable with the idea. Just a little.

But Shiro wants to give Keith the comfortable life he deserves. He knows Keith has always wanted to travel, and Shiro wants to do that with him. Keith is built of whipcord strength and grit forged out of necessity, and Shiro wants him to have the luxury of being softer, if he wants it.

The truth is, Shiro has never loved anyone as much as he loves Keith, so it’s hard to admit that one of the worst choices of his life might have been saying yes to Keith’s proposal. 

If it means Keith dies, Shiro will never forgive himself. He swallows back a sob.

His sadness doesn’t take long to turn to anger, and he starts yanking at his bonds, shouting furiously, but a house of silence answers him. He’s not even able to knock over the chair – they’ve bolted it to the ground somehow. Fuck.

There has to be _something_ he can do. Anything.

Shiro is struggling to keep his eyelids open – his panic has faded to the exhaustion of unwilling defeat – when he sees something at the edge of his vision, flickering in the darkness.

Then he hears the voice, and is all at once _very awake,_ panic successfully reignited.

“It’s good to finally meet you, Takashi. Can I call you that? Takashi...or maybe Kashi?”

Shiro can’t process what he’s seeing. There’s someone in the closet with him, but they aren’t...fully there. He can see through them, for they’re made of gauzy, dimly glowing red light.

They step out of the darkest of the shadows and approach him, and still Shiro doesn’t understand because for a moment, a terrifying moment, he thinks it’s Keith. A ghost. As soon as the thought clicks, he knows that’s what it is. And it isn’t Keith. But the resemblance is striking.

Deep down, Shiro knows who it is. But he can’t voice it. Shame claws its way up his throat as the ghost circles him, gliding more than walking, trailing bits of scarlet mist behind him. His hair is longer and wavier than Keith’s, tied back. His eyes are darker, his brows thinner, his nose more pointed. He’s wearing a bloodied suit.

“We missed you for our wedding, brother-in-law,” he sighs. “Then again, I guess you didn’t miss much.” He makes a face. “It – or rather, I – was pretty short-lived.” He gestures to himself. “Obviously.”

“I – I’m sorry. I should have been there,” Shiro whispers.

“To see me die?”

“Well – no – to help, I guess, I –”

“Help,” he repeats, popping the ‘p’ in a way that makes Shiro wince. “Like you’re helping Keith right now?”

Shiro looks down, heart sinking.

“Okay,” the ghost sighs, “maybe that was a little harsh. Sorry. Death has made me meaner, huh?”

Shiro looks up, hesitant. “You’re not real,” he says, “are you? It would be just like my family to dose me with hallucinogens right now.”

The ghost’s shoulders slump. “Damn,” he says. “Kuro always said you were the nice one, but this family fucked you up as much as him, huh?”

Shiro closes his eyes, as giddy as he is afraid. “I’m seeing my twin brother’s dead husband,” he says faintly. “I didn’t think this night could get much worse, but wow, was I wrong!”

When Shiro cracks his eye open, the ghost has his hands on his hips. “The name’s Akira, thanks.”

"Cool, cool, cool," Shiro croaks. "Nice to meet you, Akira...?"

"Shirogane, technically," Akira says dryly, lifting his left hand, a golden wedding band sparkling on his ring finger. "Lucky me."

"You're a very realistic delusion," Shiro tells him politely. "My brother, um, had good taste?"

Akira raises an eyebrow. “You two are so weird.” He tilts his head. “I mean, what are the chances that Keith and I would look _that_ similar?”

“You’ve, um, met Keith?” Shiro manages.

“I’m trapped in this goddamn house,” Akira snaps. “What _else_ is there to do but spy on you all?”

Shiro turns bright red. “Spy on _what,_ exactly?” He pauses. “Wait. Assuming, for the moment, that you’re not a figment of my imagination...has Kuro seen you?”

Akira sighs at him and gestures at himself. “You think _this_ is something I can just _do?_ Uh-uh. Saved it for a special occasion.”

“Me?” Shiro exclaims. “What about your husband?”

Akira frowns at him. “You think it would give him peace to see me like this?”

“I don’t know. But I know he misses you.”

“Yeah. Me too. But I’m here to talk to you, Kashi. We’re ending this, tonight.”

“Oh,” Shiro says weakly. “Right, that adds up. You’re a vengeful spirit and you’re going to kill me?”

Akira stares at him. “What.”

“No, that’s fair,” Shiro stammers, “just, please don’t kill Keith –”

“Oh my god,” Akira says. “Wow, you’re both idiots. Cute idiots, but still.”

“I don’t understand,” Shiro whispers. “What...what are we ending?”

“Do you _want_ to sacrifice Keith to the Devil?” Akira demands.

“No!” Shiro yelps. “What – of course not!”

“Good, because I don’t recommend it,” Akira mutters. “The Devil’s a bastard with terrible taste in music.”

“You met the Devil. Ah. Okay.”

Akira stalks towards him and Shiro leans back as much as the chair allows, eyes wide as the ghost leans in. “No,” Akira growls, “it is _not_ okay. And this stupid three-hundred-year-old tradition needs to end.”

“Yes,” Shiro whispers. “Keith has to live. Somehow. Even if that means my family...doesn’t.”

“Listen to me,” Akira says, very close now. “You know what the Devil’s whole _thing_ is?”

“Um...being evil?”

“Not quite.” Akira eyes him. “It’s _making_ people evil.” He pauses. “You know what kind of people keep a tradition like that for three hundred years?”

“Evil people?” 

“Bingo.”

“But – Kuro isn’t.” Shiro hunches his shoulders. “I don’t want him to be, anyway. He protected me once, when I needed him, when no one else would. He’s different.”

“So are you,” Akira replies softly. “Evil’s a hard thing to measure. But not in this case. If they hadn’t killed me, yes, I think they would be dead. But not Kuro.”

“So...you’re saying, if Keith lives –”

“Then, theoretically, so will you.”

“And Kuro?”

Akira smiles sadly. “I don’t know how this shit works,” he admits, “I was a florist. But I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I think if we don’t at least try – well, what kind of love is that?”

Shiro nods slowly. “Then what do we do? What can _I_ do?”

“You can love your husband,” Akira replies, reaching out and cupping his cheek. His touch is like mist, lingering but intangible. “And know that when you need me, I will be there.” He pauses. “For you, Keith, and Kuro.”

Akira flickers, then fades alarmingly, and sighs. “Oh, and I need one other thing. Sorry in advance.” His other hand cups Shiro’s face, too.

“What –”

“Think of your best memory with Keith,” he suggests. “Something happy, something good.”

“Why –”

“Goodbye, Kashi.” Akira kisses him.

That awful dark closet fades away, and suddenly Shiro is laying in a soft bed with rumpled sheets and warm sunshine, Keith’s arm braced over his chest, peering up at him with fond, dark eyes and a small, sweet smile.

“What?” Shiro laughs, brushing his hair back. “Something on my face?”

Keith huffs, sitting up enough to lean in and kiss his cheek. “Now there is,” he murmurs, trailing his fingertips over Shiro’s skin. 

“Mm.” Shiro’s hand slides down the lazy arch of his back. “Thanks.”

“Welcome.” Keith’s lips quirk. “More where that came from.”

“There always is,” Shiro laughs, catching an armful of Keith as he’s tackled. “And I’m so glad,” he whispers into Keith’s hair. Keith hums happily into his shoulder, which quickly turns into nuzzling, and then the promised kisses. “How did I get so lucky?” Shiro muses, half-gasped.

“Hmm, lemme think.” Keith’s teeth dig into his throat. “You decided to take a chance on the weird guy at the bar who drank shitty rum and wouldn’t stop staring at you?”

_“Decided,”_ Shiro scoffs. “Like there was any way I couldn’t go to you. You were magnetic, baby.”

“And you’re cheesy, _baby.”_

“And you love it,” Shiro retorts, grabbing his hip and rolling until Keith is breathlessly laughing under him. 

“I do,” Keith chuckles, throwing his head back, black hair spilling across the pillow, catching the sunlight in strands of gold. “Yeah. I really do.”

Shiro kisses him.

Keith breaks away after a moment, a small furrow of realization between his brows. Shiro falters when he murmurs, “Hey. You stayed the night.”

Shiro blinks. “Yes...?”

“You’ve never done that before.”

“Neither have you.”

Keith’s lips part. “No...but I wanted to.”

“You can,” Shiro says, so fast it’s almost embarrassing. 

Keith’s face smooths out. “Yeah? That’s okay?”

“Of course,” Shiro whispers. “I mean – should I have not stayed?”

Keith’s fingers dig into his hip with sudden fierceness. “Stay,” he whispers back. “As long as you want.”

“Okay,” Shiro says, and he means it. “What if I just never leave?” That’s a joke, but Keith doesn’t laugh. He tips his head up, brushes their noses together. 

“What if,” Keith repeats, wondering, and when Keith kisses him, the question clings, simple and oh so tempting. _What if?_

Shiro opens his eyes with effort. He’s still tied to the chair in the dark closet, but he’s alone again, and his exhaustion has multiplied. His face is warm where Akira touched him, kissed him. But it wasn’t quite a kiss, he realizes. Akira took what he needed, a last bit of strength.

Shiro breathes in, out. The air feels different, charged with anticipation. He’s tired, his head still aches, but none of that matters. Keith will live. This tradition will end. Fuck the Devil.

“Let’s fucking do this,” Shiro says, and swears he hears distant, approving laughter.

*

Keith’s never been very good at acting, but Kuro makes it easy, because it’s hard to tell if he’s acting when he drags Keith out of his car and across the drive back up to the Shirogane mansion. Gravel scrapes and stings against Keith’s wounds and he hisses, jerking against his bonds.

“Shout at me or something,” Kuro mutters down to him. “They always do that, just yell shit.”

_“FUCK YOU!”_ Keith howls, kicking out uselessly. “Like that?”

“You can be more creative than that,” Kuro says. The front door opens, his mother hurrying out. “Okay. Rehearsal’s over.”

“Let go!” Keith shrieks. “Fuck – you’re all fucking crazy –”

“Kuro!” Mrs. Shirogane exclaims, running to him in her black stilettos. “Oh, thank God, we were worried sick! But – you got him.” Her concerned expression shifts quickly into smug approval. “I never doubted you.”

“I would hope not,” Kuro replies archly, lifting Keith up by his shirt collar until his tie starts to cut off air, leaving Keith gasping soundlessly. “I didn’t get a honeymoon; neither does Takashi.”

His mom’s brow furrows. “Yes, I’m sorry about that,” she sighs, “what bad luck, for you both...”

Kuro shrugs. “Whatever. He picked the card, shit happens. Could’ve had a nice game of Mafia, but instead...” He lifts Keith higher, ‘til he’s off the ground, before dropping him back down again. Keith lies crumpled and wheezing, throat bruised. Even Mrs. Shirogane looks taken aback.

Keith gets it, though. The rage in Kuro’s eyes and actions isn’t meant for him. He blinks back tears from his watering eyes and looks blearily up at the house. 

Somewhere, Shiro is in there. What have they done to him? Tied behind his back, Keith’s hands curl into fists.

“Come on,” Mrs. Shirogane murmurs, ever elegant even as she pins Keith with a glance that suggests she sees him as just another goat in the barn, waiting for the sacrificial knife. “He’s put up quite a fight, hasn’t he?”

Kuro scoffs. “Sure tried to.”

“Hmm. Akira was much easier.”

Kuro’s nails dig into the nape of Keith’s neck so hard they draw blood. “He wasn’t warned,” Kuro mutters. “Unlike Takashi, I didn’t tell him.”

“Because you’re a loyal son,” his mom replies. “And now you get the honor of dealing with this one. We tried to persuade Takashi, but...”

“Don’t waste your breath on him,” Kuro mutters. “Takashi’s always been a coward.”

“Don’t be mean,” Mrs. Shirogane sighs, leading them inside. “Poor boy, he won’t be happy to see his beloved like this. But he has to grow up someday. Soon this will be his responsibility.”

Kuro’s brow lowers. Keith can taste the bitterness in Kuro’s voice when he says, “But _I’m_ the oldest. _I’m_ the heir.”

Mrs. Shirogane pauses. “Of course.”

They haul Keith up the steps, and he fights them the whole way, but when Kuro threatens to shoot him with the crossbow again, he stills.

Keith doesn’t know how long it takes to reach the music room, but by the time they get there, he aches all over and tension pours off of Kuro. They drag him towards the table in the center of the room, and because it feels wrong to let himself go passively to his maybe-death, Keith tries to kick Mrs. Shirogane as they lift him up onto the table.

In hindsight it’s not the smartest thing he’s ever done, but his scuffed black dress shoe does connect firmly with her nose in a satisfying, bloody crack.

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Then Mrs. Shirogane calmly leans down, takes off a stiletto and hits Keith in the head, hard.

Keith cries out, the stiletto heel raking a bloody line down his face, before she hits him again, squarely in the crown, and everything goes black.

*

Shiro is led into the music room to the sight of Keith being tied to the long, burnished table, unconscious and bloodied, his face badly cut.

“No,” Shiro gasps, straining forward as Kuro meets his eye across the room, standing at the head of the table and casually weighing the carved sacrificial dagger in his hands. There’s no kindness in his eyes, only cold shadow, and Shiro fights his father’s grip. “Get away from him –”

“You know the rules, Takashi,” Kuro says, singsong, the line of his mouth grim and mocking. 

It’s exactly what Shiro feared. Desperately, Shiro wants to tell him who he met; wants his brother to know that the love of his life still believes in him. But all that comes out is a sob.

“Kuro, don’t do this,” Shiro begs. “Please. Don’t hurt him –”

Kuro rolls his eyes and grabs Keith’s bound forearm, lifting the blade over it. Shiro snarls, throwing his entire weight against his father, who stumbles and smacks him upside the head, sending him to his knees.

“Don’t make an even bigger fool of yourself, son,” his father warns, dragging him to one of the chairs around the table and deftly tying him to it while he’s dazed. Keith is in full view of him, so he can clearly see as Kuro slices Keith’s palm open, blood dripping into the silver goblet.

Shiro’s grandma frowns, peering over from beside his mother. “Should have gone for the wrist. This one led Takashi astray and killed our Ryou. Not to mention, Adam, and the cousins — we’ll have to have the other cousins over for the next wedding...”

_“I_ killed Ryou,” Shiro hisses.

“Takashi, quiet,” his father warns. 

But Shiro is done staying quiet for his family. “How is this worth it?” he demands. “You’ve lost your son, your son-in-law, your nephews –”

“ – and we will make sure their deaths will not be in vain –”

“ – and for what? This?” Shiro scoffs at the gilded wallpaper.

“Enough talk,” his grandma snaps. “Dawn is near. Too damn near. Pass the cup, Kuro.”

“Gladly.” Kuro lifts the goblet to his lips, and they come away red. Shiro retches, turning his head away and spitting curses as his family follows suit. Slowly, Keith stirs awake with a pained groan.

The remaining Shiroganes begin to chant, and Shiro struggles furiously. He swears he can feel his heart break when Keith lifts his head as much as he can manage, his confused expression morphing into terror as he sees the knife, Kuro over him, and Shiro, just out of reach.

Shiro makes a wretched, inhuman sound of fury, furious because he was selfish enough to say yes to Keith's golden ring and earnest question, furious because he wasn't strong enough to save him, furious because he was stupid enough to believe in a happy ending for them, together.

“We offer this sacrifice to you, as is your right, Fallen Star, Power of Darkness, Angel of Light,” Kuro intones, raising the knife slowly over Keith. 

Keith’s expression grows oddly calm. He meets Shiro’s eyes and mouths, _I love you._

Kuro brings the knife down.

Except, a curious thing happens. The knife never meets Keith’s heart. Instead, Kuro whirls at the last second and stabs his mother in the belly without hesitation.

“Funny, you’re much easier to kill than Akira was, Mom,” Kuro tells her, twisting the blade and yanking it out mercilessly.

Shiro’s grandma reaches for her daughter as Mrs. Shirogane stumbles on her stilettos and falls slowly, struggling to remain upright and coughing up blood. Then his grandma falters, seeing a hint of light through the curtains. She reaches instead, desperately, for the blade still in Kuro’s hand.

“Kuro,” Shiro’s father says, leaving his side with arms outstretched to approach his older son, “put down the knife, you don’t know what you’re doing...”

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Kuro retorts. “Damn you all. Straight to the ninth circle of Hell, I hope.”

Kuro turns to shove his grandma aside as she claws at him, her only thought the salvation of the knife before the dawn comes. When she falls, she hits the edge of the table hard, and Keith swears, writhing against the ropes. 

As Kuro turns, his father pulls his gun.

Shiro can’t say if Akira’s delay was truly purposeful or not, but he thinks he knows the answer. Because Keith’s eyes go wide and he screams, “Shiro, behind you!” the moment _after_ Mr. Shirogane fires, not before. Shiro’s bound wrists burn for a moment and then he’s free, but Kuro falls first.

Shiro doesn’t look behind him. He knows what he’ll see — a flickering red ghost, carrying out the final act he remained here for. 

No, Shiro only looks forward. He lunges for his father before he can fire again at Kuro or Keith, wresting the gun from him and slamming it into his skull.

Keith fights his bonds again, unable to process what he’s seeing, only knowing that he’s surrounded by murder and maybe a ghost – or he’s lost it. All he knows is that when Shiro stops his father, the ropes holding him are burnt, as are the ropes on Keith as he finally breaks free. They fall from his limbs harmlessly, the edges seared though Keith’s skin remains untouched.

Keith bolts upright, panting, and sees the Shirogane grandma valiantly rising to her feet beside him, swaying dangerously andholding the sacrificial dagger Kuro dropped as he fell. Keith doesn’t think. He grabs the heavy, bloodstained silver goblet and clocks her in the head with it. 

She doesn’t get up.

Keith scrambles off the table, and Shiro runs to him. Mrs. Shirogane is still dying, and several feet from her, staring up at the vaulted ceiling with a small frown, lies Kuro, one hand over the spreading dark stain on his chest. 

Keith and Shiro, holding each other, kneel beside him.

“Hm,” Kuro says, his strained voice and ashen face the only sign something is terribly wrong, “that fresco up there is ugly as sin. You ever noticed that, Kashi? It’s like a bad knockoff of the Sistine Chapel. Who paid for that? Idiots.”

“You’re gonna be okay,” Shiro whispers.

Kuro scoffs. “Hah. No. Pretty sure you don’t just recover from –” He coughs, wincing as blood spatters. “Whatever the fuck that is.” He blinks, struggling to keep clarity. “Hey...look at that. What a nice morning, hm?”

Dawn creeps through the curtains and across the quiet room.

“Well,” Keith mutters, “we’ll never know if the curse was real, since we killed them first –”

Mrs. Shirogane lifts her ringed hand with a furious rasp of Kuro’s name. 

Then she bursts into flames.

_**“OH, FUCK THAT,”**_ Shiro shouts, scooping up a shocked Kuro as their father follows suit.

_“Shiro what the fuck.”_ Keith hisses as they back out of the room and Shiro’s grandma joins the spontaneous combustion party. 

“I told you it was real,” Kuro grumbles, unimpressed. “Also you should probably drop me unless you want to also be a s’more, Kashi.”

Shiro stares down at him, flabbergasted. Kuro sighs. “Want me to countdown? That could be fun. T-minus ten, nine, eight –”

“Kuro.” Shiro says. “Shut up. Please.”

Kuro opens his mouth, then closes it. “Wow, not even a thank you? You’re welcome. Now please back away slowly –”

Shiro ignores him, as does Keith, and walks out of the now steadily burning music room. The rest of the house will soon follow, and Shiro won’t miss it. Keith _definitely_ won’t. 

Kuro’s cocky tone falters. “What are you – Kashi, I’m serious, let go –”

“I’m not leaving you with them.”

They don’t stop until they’ve made their way down the hall, out through the grand doors, and find themselves on the very same marble steps they were married on less than twenty-four hours ago. Shiro sinks down slowly to sit with Kuro in his arms, and Keith slumps next to him. Kuro looks confused.

“I don’t get it,” Kuro says. “Do you _want_ to burn up in a twin-caused fire, here?”

“You’re not going to burn,” Shiro says quietly. “You’re not evil, Kuro.”

“I just killed my mom and half-killed Grandma. That’s some Greek shit, Takashi.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t do it for you.”

“Is that the rule now?” Kuro scoffs, and chokes, more blood spilling from his lips. “Even if I don’t set you on fire, I’ll bleed all over both your wedding clothes.”

“Yeah, like they were in such good shape,” Keith deadpans. “And I don’t think the blood will ever get out of my hair.”

Shiro chuckles weakly. Kuro is quiet. They watch the sun rise slowly but surely over the horizon together, peeking through the distant trees and bathing the endless lawn in gold.

“What I don’t get,” Kuro mumbles, barely audible, “is how both of you got free. Those ropes were _burned.”_

Keith looks to Shiro. He wonders the same, but he saw a glimpse of that strange figure behind Shiro’s chair, and has an inkling as to who it might be, somehow. Stranger things have happened.

“We had help,” Shiro tells him. “Help...from someone who still loves you, and misses you, very much.”

Kuro’s eyes widen.

Then, absurdly, he begins to laugh, a sort of awful, wet sound, though the relief in his expression is genuine. “Figures Akira would be a friendly ghost.” He blinks up at Shiro. “Is he...?”

“I think,” Shiro murmurs, “he moved on.” Kuro’s face falls. “But...not from you.”

“Of course,” Kuro croaks. “How could he forget _me?_ I’m –” He breaks off with a worse cough than before. “He didn’t forget,” he whispers after, soft and awed. “He doesn’t – hate me, for not telling him, for not stopping them?”

“No,” Shiro promises. “He loves you, Kuro. And I bet...” He blinks back tears. “I bet he’s waiting for you, right now.”

Kuro relaxes, gazing at the sunrise. “That’s nice,” he whispers. “That’s really nice, Kashi.”

“Tell him I said hi,” Shiro manages.

Keith clears his throat. “And – and tell him thank you. To both of you. For everything.”

“I missed him,” Kuro breathes. “So much. He was – my sunshine.”

Behind them, the house goes up in flames. Kuro closes his eyes, and doesn’t say anything else. Gently, Shiro lets him down until his head rests on the marble step. The flames don’t touch him.

Keith takes Shiro’s hand, and they stand with difficulty, side by side.

_“Fuck,”_ Keith says.

Then, from across the lawn, a familiar fluffy shape bounds over.

Keith grins and takes a step forward, then pauses. “Does Kosmo belong to Kuro?”

Shiro clears his throat and rubs his eyes hastily. “Technically? No. My dad got him, just to have a wolf, I think.”

“Rich people,” Keith mutters.

“Yeah,” Shiro sighs. Kosmo howls joyfully and leaps up the steps towards them. “But Kuro – got attached to him. Most people were scared of him. Most people were scared of Kuro, too, but...” Shiro exhales unsteadily. “Yeah.”

“He’s not scary,” Keith says as the wolf reaches them. “Just lonely.”

Kosmo snuffles at Keith, then sees Kuro and pads over. He licks Kuro’s face, then pushes his nose to Kuro’s neck. Nothing happens. Kosmo blinks, tail lowering, and whines softly, turning to look at them. 

“It’s okay,” Keith says, and gestures him over. “He’d say goodbye if he could, bud.”

Kosmo huffs, ears dropping, but his tail thumps against the marble and he rubs his head against Keith’s hip when Keith’s hand sinks into his scruffy fur. “It’s okay,” Keith repeats, and looks to Shiro. “Except you definitely owe me a new wedding night.”

Shiro hugs him. Kosmo tries to join in.

“I love you,” Shiro whispers into the crook of his neck. “You’re amazing.”

“I killed your grandma,” Keith exclaims, hugging him tighter. “And your cousins – well, technically Kosmo took one out – and Curtis –”

“...Can we agree to never speak that name again?” 

“Absolutely, sweetpea.”

“We should probably go,” Keith whispers after a while, pulling reluctantly away. “Before someone, y’know, reports an arson.”

“The Shiroganes’ lawyers are so corrupt it’s not even funny,” Shiro sighs. “I think we’ll be fine.”

Keith eyes him. “What if we say fuck the lawyers?” He pauses. “And the fortune?”

Shiro blinks. “....Okay.”

“I mean, for sure take as much of their money as you can and want to, rob your relatives blind if you’re up for it,” Keith says with a shrug, “but I don’t care about any of that, Shiro. I just want you. And this wolf. And maybe the goats. They’re creepy but weirdly charming. And I could learn to like goat cheese.”

Shiro grins at him.

“I love you,” he says. “I’ll absolutely learn goat farming and shibari for you, baby.”

“Those two don’t belong in the same sentence, Takashi.” Keith pauses, smile tugging at his lips. “But thank you.”

“Awwooo!” Kosmo says. Shiro concurs.

They walk down the stairs, Kosmo padding happily between them. 

“You know what this means,” Shiro murmurs as they leave the burning Shirogane mansion behind. Keith raises a questioning eyebrow. “Now we just need to meet _your_ side of the family.”


End file.
